Something Malevolent
by Summer Leigh Wind
Summary: "I fear..." He fades off, not wanting to voice what has taken over his little brother's home. "What?" France demands. "Something, something malevolent." England utters, eye darting to the shadows dancing on the wooden walls. FACE family concept with some uncle Scotland thrown in too.
1. Remember, Remember

_Rem__ember, Remember_

* * *

_There's screaming, he can't decipher the words, but he knows whoever it is frightened, upset. A hand touches his shoulders, he opens his eyes to see a pair of sky blue eyes hovering over his. Tears begin to pour from them and he feels bad, why's he crying? Did it not work? Lifting his hand, he uses his little fingers to wipe away the tears.__  
_

_"'s okay." He tells the other boy.  
_

_The child's face crumples and he encompasses him in an almost painful hug. "Mattie!" He sobs.  
_

_"I'm fine Al, did you guys get rid of him?" He asks, struggling to sit up.  
_

_"Yeah an-" Alfred starts, but then their older brother cuts in.  
_

_"Boys?" They flicker their gazes to their emerald eye caretaker and in his hands is a glowing orb. "Hey, I need you to do exactly what I tell you okay? This is the last thing we need to do." He explains.  
_

_"It'll be over after? Everything will go back to normal?" His brother questions relief and desperation saturating his voice.  
_

_Arthur's eyes glimmer with something Mathew can't quite place. "Yes...it'll be like before." He agrees voice low and gentle.  
_

_"Hear that Mattie? We can pretend it never happened then!" He whispers to him squeezing his hand.  
_

_Mathew manages to smile for his elder twin. "_Oui_, like before." He accepts._

_"Boys? Can you both stare at the crystal in my hand please?" He commands, their violet and sky blue eyes heed him and stare at the bright object resting in his fingers. Arthur begins to chant something in a strange language, Mathew is confused, yet he likes it. Big brother's chant is soothing somehow and...he raises his hand to scrub at his eye, he's very tired all of sudden. He wonders...against his will his eyes slip close and his brother stops singing. Mathews eyes flutter at the sound of people approaching.  
_

_"Is it done? They won't remember anything?" France questions, remember what? Mathew ponders.  
_

_"Ai, not a thing France. 's a spell I've used many times on meddlesome people." Scotland confirms.  
_

_"Yes, '_umans_, not nations." France counters._

_"Shut it frog, my brother knows his spells. This will work, they won't remember the past year just like you wanted." England snarls at France and Mathew feels bad. They have been getting on well lately, he thought it would stay that way...  
_

_He hears France exhale and the rustle of his sleeves as he crosses his arms. "What shall we tell them?" He questions.  
_

_"That they were sick." England states. "Now, help me put them in bed." He demands and then England's arms are under him and he is being lifted and carried. Everything becomes fuzzy and sleep overtakes Mathew.  
_

**XxXxX**_  
_

_"Big brother?" Canada murmurs, his head hurts and everything is jumbled.  
_

_Arthur is at his side at once. "Yes lad? Can I get you anything? Water? Something to eat?" He asks, his fingers rubbing his back.  
_

_"What happened big brother? Everything is all funny, I can't remember anything right and I feel bad." He sniffles. England sighs wearily and brings him up to cradle Canada in his arms.  
_

_"...You and your brother were sick for almost an entire year. Your fevers just broke last night." He explains voice hollow.  
_

_Canada shifts in his hold something about what England said doesn't feel right. "A _whole_ year?" He murmurs. _

_England leans down kissing his head. "Yes, yes a whole year." He whispers. Something in Canada tells him to doubt his caretaker, to accuse him of lying. But, he really does feel gross; like he does when he _is _sick, so his brother can't be lying right?_

_"Can I have some water?" Canada implores. England settles him back into his bed and tucks the covers around his chin.  
_

_Rising to his feet, England says "Yes, of course" and then he is gone. Snuggling back against his pillow, Canada sighs and he dozes off once more.  
_

**XxXxX**

Canada's eyes open and he lays till contemplating his ceiling as the dream settles in. With a groan he pulls himself up and runs a hand through his wavy hair. This is the third time this week that he has had the dream. He still isn't sure who his brother and the others got rid of, but...by just trying to think of this person fills him with a sense of dread and fear. Another thing is that he keeps calling it a _dream_ and he _knows _it's _not_, but he doesn't _want _to believe it's anything else.

Biting his lip, Canada decides to call his brother. He needs to talk to someone about it and he's not sure he trust England or France to tell him the truth. Picking up his cell from his nightstand he hits speed dial and wait for America to pick up.

"S'up?" A voice slurs on the other line.

Canada relaxes and leans back against his headboard. "Al?" He whispers.

"Yo, what's wrong bro...?" America yawns.

"I...I've been having these dreams..." Canada starts. He then spends the next twenty minutes explaining to his brother in detail the odd repetitive memory that has been bugging him in his sleep. "...and then I always wake up, but I feel like there's more I don't remember." He finishes and it's then he realizes his brother hasn't said a word the entire time he's been speaking. Feeling a bit irked that his brother probably fell asleep somewhere in the middle he snaps "Are you even awake?"

"Yeah, yeah...I'm here, it's just...I've been having the same dream almost." America confesses. Canada gasps. "You know...I think we should go pay a visit to England and France." He brother comments.

"_Oui_ we should." Canada agrees.

"Great, how 'bout after the next meeting? It's like a week away and right here in America even." America tells Canada.

"Perfect." Canada hangs up shortly after and decides to sleep a bit longer.

**XxXxX**

A week later Canada and America manage to wrangle both France and England over to America's house. Seated in the living room, France and England appear agitated and confused as they stare up at Canada and America; who stand in front of them to keep them from escaping.

"America what are we here for?" England frowns, lifting the mug of (mediocre) tea America had given him from the coffee table to his lap.

Canada and America glance between one another. "Maybe you should explain Mattie?" America prompts.

Canada scowls, but it quickly smooths away when he nods his head. "Yeah, okay." He agrees. He then turns his attention to France and England who stare up expectantly. "Well, it starts like this..." Canada goes on to explains to his old caretakers the strange dream he has been having, America only interjecting occasionally with his own point of view. By the time they finish both England and France are pale and wide eyed.

Abruptly, France launches himself at England with a snarl. "You said they would not remember!" He screams.

"France!" America yells pulling the older nation off of England.

"I-I thought they wouldn't." England stammers.

France spits at him. "I _knew_ I shouldn't have trusted you and your brother!" He yells, thrashing against America's hold.

England shoots up from his seat. "You _lousy frog_!" England screams. "_You_ wanted to beat them over the _head_ till they were_ amnesiacs_!"

"At least then they would have forgotten forever!" France shouts back.

"Whoa! Whoa!" America yells over them. "Time _out_!" France slackens in his arms and is panting quietly as he glares over at England who sneers right back.

"What are you two talking? Why'd you guys not want us to remember?" America demands.

England deflates and slouches back against the sofa. "France?" He inquires looking up at the older nation.

"_Non_ don't you _dare_." He hisses bucking against America.

"If it's wearing off it's best we tell them now so we can explain why we did what we did." England argues. France goes still and then he yanks out of America's hold.

"Hey!" America yelps trying to grab the other nation, but he easily doges as he falls back against the couch beside England.

"Fine." He grumbles.

England gives a flicker of a smile before he gesture for Canada and America to sit down. "This will take a while boys, you might as well get comfortable." He tells them. When the twins are settled in opposite armchairs, England's cast one final uncertain glance at France before beginning. ""Now, I don't know the specifics of when it all began, but..."

* * *

**Review! This is a better first chapter, don't you think?  
**

**_Words:_  
**

**_Oui: Yes  
_**

**_Non: No  
_**


	2. Something Malevolent

_Something Malevolent_

__**This loosely based off a dream I had. **

* * *

_Dear Brother,_

No, that wouldn't do, it is deceptively close. He and his brother may be getting on better as of late, but not to that extent. The blond sighs and drums his fingers on the little writing desk he'd brought to the colonies. Scotland would be too formal...maybe he should just call him by name. Nodding his head he begins to scratch,

_Dear William,_

_ I suppose I should begin this letter asking you how you are and if all is well at home, unfortunately that is at the moment not one of my pressing concerns. I loathe to ask this of you, but strange...incidents are happening in little America's home. I hear whispers, catch shadows darting on the walls from the corner of my eye, things fall and break (even when America is not inside the house), things disappear from one spot and appear in another...it seemed harmless at first, but I beginning to have my doubts. _

_ Canada, you remember him don't you? The little lad I've discovered has the sight and though not as strong as say, Dylan's, it worries me. I've passed by his and America's room at night to hear whispers and when I open the room Canada's lavender orbs are wide and dare I say it? Glowing. Anytime I ask the child who he is speaking to he tells me "Myself, Big Brother." This is not all, even, brother-mine, I'll find the child, some mornings, standing on the threshold of our front door and he is always in trance of some sort until I call his name and lay a hand on his head or shoulder. What terrifies me though, is the bruises I find on the child when I help him dress or bathe and he is not the only one, America has several of his own._

_ Whenever I inquire of these bruises the always shrug them off with "I don't know" or "From playing, Big Brother." I do not believe them, the bruises are too large, too dark to be from play and sometimes...they remind me of a man's grip. I have become very suspicious of the neighboring men and watch the children closely to see where they come and go, but so far I never find them bruised when they return. Only in the mornings when I dress them for the day. I might be jumping to conclusions a tad quick, or might be overreacting...but I can not rid myself of this feeling, something is wrong and I cannot pin point what. Respond in haste Brother, I am beginning to fear the worst._

_ Yours, _

_ Arthur._

Arthur sighs as he folds the letter tucking it away in his breast pocket. Standing up he stretches. A quiet thump resounds from the loft above and England walks over to see his two colonies playing quietly, (for once) with the set of soldiers he'd made for America. Smiling, England calls "Boys!" One set of blue and one of purple look to him, glittering with inquisitiveness. "I need to mail a letter, how would the pair of you like to come to town with me?"

America hops to his feet, running for the ladder. "I wanna come! Are we goin' to get a treat too?"

England laughs. "Maybe, but only if you remember it's 'want to' not 'wanna' America." He chides gently.

"Yeah! Okay!" America agrees, grinning blithely. Tilting his head to glance back to Canada England questions,

"And you my boy?"

The child pushes himself to his feet and nods. "May we get maple syrup?" He whispers.

England's eyes soften. "Of course my dear." He agrees and then, one of the tiny smiles he enjoys so much lights up the little one's face. Offering a hand to each, England says "We mustn't dawdle, the post office closes at seven."

"Alright!" America chirps. "I'll get us there on time!" He declares. England only chuckles, the child's antics are so very endearing.

**XxXxX**

"Now, boys, don't wander too far alright?" England orders just as he is to go into the post office. Before he can even step in the door, a loud greeting from behind causes him to jolt.

"_Bonjour_!" With a weary sigh and the smallest turn of his head, England grits his teeth.

"Francis, what are you doing here?" He bites.

"To see _mes garçons _of course." The man laughs.

"Look at that, you've seen them. You can leave now." He growls.

France makes a tutting noise and bends down to the childrens' level. "'ow are you today?" He inquires.

"I'm good!" America answers, eager as ever. Canada, who is normally overjoyed to see France, only gives small nod of his head before ducking behind his slightly bigger brother. England and France for maybe the first time in their existence exchange a worried glance at the tiny boy's behavior.

"Matthew, dear, that is not a proper way to greet someone." England scolds quietly, bending down to pick the boy up.

"_Désolé._" He murmurs. England sighs, maybe if France came by for dinner the child would warm up.

Begrudgingly, England asks "Francis would you like to come by for dinner?"

"_Oui_! Very much." He smiles, eyes glimmering in excitement. England huffs, hugging Canada close.

"I still need to drop off my letter, do you boys think you can wait here nicely with Francis?" England questions.

"Yeah!" America yips and trying to hide the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, England places Canada back on his feet.

"Be good now." He orders, stepping into the post office.

**XxXxX**

A bottle of wine between them, France and England stare into the fireplace. "_Mon ange_ was acting strange tonight Arthur." He says, a slight accusing edge to his tone.

"I know," England answers, voice miserable. "He's been like that all month, I can't figure it out. I fear..." He fades off, not wanting to voice what has taken over his little brother's home.

"What?" France demands.

"Something, something malevolent." England utters, eyes darting around the shadows dancing on the wooden walls.

"Is this about your stupid faeries again?" France grumbles.

"They are real, you arse!" England snaps.

France snorts. "Whatever you say _lapin_." He snips. Standing up he stretches his arms over his head. "Show me to our bed, _mon Angleterre_."

"What?" England splutters.

"I doubt you have an extra bed and I 'ave no plans to go find my 'ome in the _dark_." France sneers.

Glowing a bright red, England snaps "You can sleep on the floor frog!"

"Don't be cruel." France sniffs. "I am too weary from my travels to do anything tonight, anyway." He adds.

England ducks his head. "Fine, but if you try anything!" He warns.

France grins. "Of course _mon lapin_." He murmurs.

* * *

**Alright, so obviously going to be a few chapters or more. Please review, any suggestions, ideas, or comment are always welcome. Thank you for reading.**

**_Words: _  
**

**_Oui - Yes  
_**

**___Désolé_ - Sorry  
**

**__****_Bonjour - Hello_**

**_Mon Ange - My Angel  
_**

**__****___Mes Garçons - My Boys_**

**__****____****_(Mon) Lapin - (My) Rabbit_**

**_Mon Angleterre - My England  
_**


	3. Stirrings in the Night

_Stirrings in the Night_

* * *

A deep thud resounds from above, startling France from sleep. Sitting up, France listens closely as a sound similar to claws scuttles across the floor above. Frowning, France shifts closer to England when another thump from above is emitted. "_Angleterre_!" He whispers, "Arthur!" France hisses shaking the younger man's shoulder.

After a moment, England's groggy green eyes open and he grumbles "What is it?"

"Listen." France commands and as if on cue, a scrapping noise is heard from the loft. England pushes himself up from his pillow and stares up at the ceiling in a mixture of irritation and confusion. "Well?" France asks glaring at the younger man.

"What in the bloody hell...?" England mutters completely ignoring France as he slips out of bed and grabs up his dressing robe. He stills in the process of tugging on the robe when a thunderous rattling sounds from the ceiling.

"ENGLAND!" One of the twin shrieks hysterically. Cursing, England completely forgets about his half-on half-off dressing gown in favor of his colonies. France follows a split-second later and scrambles up the loft's ladder after England who is running for the bed where the twins sleep.

Hovering over the children, England inspects them frantically. "What's wrong? Are you hurt?" He asks as the twins blubber and gasp as they try to explain to England what is troubling them. As England runs his hands over America he then moves onto Canada but, stops short at the back of the child's head. England pulls his hand away and gazes at it in horror. France steps closer to get a better look in the waning moonlight.

"_Mon dieu!_" France gasps at the dark red liquid coating England's fingers. What had done this to his _ange_?

Scooping the injured boy into his arms, England shushes him and barks at France "Bring Alfred downstairs." The blond nods and picks the other child up laying a kiss to his sweat soaked head.

"France! France!" The child hiccups.

"Shh...it's alright _mon bébé._" France croons, rubbing the little boy's back.

"No!" He shouts. "Mattie-I! Th-The scary man...! He-and I c-couldn't-" The child's words becomes an incomprehensible jumble as he falls into wails once more. France frowns. Scary man? What on earth is the child gibbering about? Shaking his head, France decides to leave it for the time being.

"It's alright America, your big brother and I will take care of _Matthieu_, rest _mon petit_." He tells the little colony who quiets to the point where only the occasional sniffle sounds from him. France sways from side to side slowly putting the little boy to sleep. "Sleep America." He murmurs once more and child exhales jaggedly, but rests his head on France's shoulder.

Making his way down the ladder, France is careful not to jostle the boy as he seeks out England and Canada. Squinting his eyes, France catches sight of a faint glow from the crack beneath the washroom door. Walking towards it he hums a tune to America as he presses the door open with his shoulder. Looking in, he finds Canada seated on the basin's table with England in front of him wrapping a virgin white bandage around his head.

When England is finished, he steps back to evaluate his work. Giving a satisfied nod he leans in close lifting the child up and setting him down on the floor. "There, that wasn't so bad was it?" He soothes.

"_Non._" Mathew mutters.

Crouching down to the boy's height, England stares straight into Canada's eyes. "Now, will you tell me how you got that little scratch?" He asks and France nearly snorts at the absurdity of the Englishman's words, _little scratch his ass_. But, the little blond remains silent. France can see the way England's lips pull back into a grimace and how his brow furrows together as he holds back a thousand or more expletives unsuited for little ears.

"Mathew." England chides, patience thin and the rest of him jittery from the night's events.

The lavender eyes blink and the boy looks to his feet. "It's nothing big brother." He says.

Stepping into the room France growls "It is not '_nothing_' child." Canada flinches and his eyes grow round. "_Som__ething _hurt you," France tells the little boy."And do you know what? Your brother told me. Who is this _scary man Matthieu!" _He rages. The child trembles before bursting into fat tears.

"Just great Francis! Make the lad cry!" He yells at the French nation as he pulls his little brother into his arms.

France can't believe the the Englishman, how can he act so calm? There's someone(thing) hurting their _cher Matthieu_ and yet he allows the child to lie to them! "'e's 'iding things from you! _Us_!" He snarls at the green eyed nation. Suddenly, America is stirring against his chest and he lifts his head blinking sleepy eyes up at France.

"France...?" The child breathes twisting in the bigger nation's grip.

"Shush America, all is well." He says to the little one lowering his voice drastically, but he can not hide the bite in his tone.

"Why yelling then?" He inquires still squirming in France's arms.

Coming into America's view England smiles down at him, the picture of serenity. "Francis and I are just having a bit of a disagreement." He explains his voice coming out soothing and untroubled.

Eyes drifting closed again, the child yawns. "Oh, you should stop. Mattie doesn't like you guys fighting."

France watches with a small amount of awe as England chuckles and then reaches over to pet the blond in France's arms. "We're very sorry." He apologizes for them. "You two will be sleeping with us for the rest of the night okay?" He mutters.

America smiles. "Good, scary man...can't get Mattie there..." He exhales deeply, falling back into slumber.

"That's alright with you, isn't it Mathew?" England implores of the boy cradle in his arms.

"_Oui_" Mathew breathes snuggling closer to his caretaker's chest.

"You're amazing" France blurts, he turns his head then his face blooming with red. What is he doing? What's wrong with him? He just _complimented_ his rival!

England glances up from Canada to stare at France with undisguised suspicion. "What do you mean?" He questions, stepping back as if to distance himself from whatever France is going to say.

France curses himself silently, but he squares his shoulders and informs England. "With the boys" France pauses gauging the younger nations reaction, it isn't volatile so he presses on. "You are very good with them, a natural." He praises.

Blushing scarlet, England looks away. "I just do the opposite of what _my _brothers did with me when I was little." He utters, trying to brush away France's compliment.

Old anger and new, unfamiliar sadness bubbles in France at England's words. "You go beyond that, Arthur." France declares, daring the younger man to deny this.

Shrugging, England begs "Can we go to bed?"

"Yes, of course." France agrees, letting the subject drop. Next, he steps away from the doorway to allow England passage. A short time later they are both settled in bed with America and Canada between them. France turns on his side to gaze at England, who is turned away from him. "Goodnight _Angleterre_." He whispers.

France is silent as he waits, sighing he flops onto his back thinking England is asleep when he hears "G'night frog." Grinning, France closes his eye allowing sleep to overtake him.

* * *

**Good? Bad? Thanks for reading and please review!**

**_Words:_  
**

**_Oui: Yes  
_**

**_Non: No  
_**

**_Ange: Angel_**

**_Mon Dieu: My God  
_**

**_Angleterre: England  
_**

**_Mon B__ébé: My Baby_  
**

**_Mon Petit: My Little One_**

**__****_(Cher) Matthieu:_** (Dear) Mathew  



	4. The Monster Follows

_The Monster Follows_

* * *

Dawn just hours away, one blond's sleep turns uneasy. His three companions rest on, unaware of their neighbor's contorting features and hastening breath. Clips of images, sounds, feelings begin to overtake his dreams...

_Someone's crying..._He notes as the haze begins to clear in his dreams, _It sounds like...Matthew? Alfred? Are the children alright? _He tries to move, but his dream body refuses him. _Bloody-_before he can finish his curse suddenly his embodiment of the dream jolts, as if it's coming to life. Suddenly, everything around him is clear and bright, almost too bright. A boy comes into view, his field green eyes overwhelmed with tears. _Wales..._He realizes, but it's a Wales long forgotten, one from a nearly faded childhood. The youthful Wale's eyes enlarge and then a relieved smile overtakes his features as he turns his head

"He's awake!" The young brunette shouts and England's dream body jerks it's head to catch sight of two approaching bodies. If he could have, England would have gasped at the sight. In front of him are his two other brothers, both just shy of being teenagers, Scotland gawky and Ireland oddly short in comparison to the one he knows. The pair's faces are open as they look at the prone England, the dreamer startles when Ireland's face crumples and a loud unabashed sob leaves his throat. _Ireland..._He can hardly believe that these _boys_ are his rough, calloused, stubborn brothers. He's drawn away from his thoughts when his dream body's mouth opens, but it hesitates in speaking as it tries to work words around it's dry mouth.

"Brothers..." The body croaks and England's mind goes into shock. This strange body, unlike any other dream body he has ever occupied, that will not obey him...it's _his_? It comes to England then, that this is not a dream, but a memory. Scotland's awkward form drops beside him and grasps the tiny hand, that he marvels is _his._

"What do ya 'member?" Scotland all but demands. England bristles at his brother's tone, but his young self responds not noticing (not caring?) the aggressiveness of the question.

"The...the _monster_, he was-was-" and his younger self falls into a fit of tears. England doesn't know what to expect, he fears his brother's temper will overtake him and this child, _him_, will take the brunt of his anger. Surprising England a moment later, Scotland hugs him displaying to England a side of Scotland England wasn't sure existed.

"Don't worry, it's gone." His brother shushes, holding him closer as Ireland and Wales come to cling to them.

The little England tilts his head up, staring into his older brother's anguished murky green. It's just so _strange _his brother looks so _young_, boyish even, nothing like the self-assured teen and man England has known. "Forever an' ever?" He hears himself slur. And as his young eyes begin to drift close, he sees the way his brother's gaze shifts between Wales and Ireland the hesitant pause.

"A-Ai, ferever." His brother agrees and his child self sighs in relief.

"Good" he yawns, scrubbing at his eye with a fist. England, though, wants to scream; make his brothers say why they're lying, hiding the truth from him.

His eyes now little more than slits, Scotland leans in close his lips nearly touching his ear. "Sleep brother." England feels his young self's lips quirk and everything fades away to black. It stays that way for a moment, then suddenly out of no where there's a blinding flash and a sound like thunder. An unearthly shriek sounds in the distance and with a ripple of wind a figure, man in shape, rushes at him. It's sharp yellow teeth and blood splattered claws coming straight for him, England _screams_ louder than he's ever done before and he dives away from the _monster._

England's eyes pop open and he finds himself on the hardwood floor, panting and trembling. He lifts a hand and stares, it is his own, with a breathless laugh he dissolves into tears. Through his tears, England watches as France comes around the bed to kneel in front of him; the boys right behind him.

France stares at the Englishman uneasily. France has never been comfortable with crying, let alone comforting the crying. Jerking his arm out he lays a hand on the younger nation's shoulder. "_Angleterre? _England? Arthur?" He begs, hoping the Englishman will gain control of himself and tell his rival what's wrong. England doesn't answer instead he begins to cry more and shakes his head at France. The Frenchman feels one of the twins brush past his shoulder. Little America swerves around to glower at France, tiny hands planted on his slim hips.

"You're doin' it wrong!" He huffs and then throws himself at England, wrapping his little arms around his caretaker's neck. It only takes a second for England to put his own arms around America as he began to sob into his colony's shoulder. America takes it in stride and begins to pat England's hair. "'sokay England, it was just a nightmare." He mumbles. At this England pulls America away from him, gazing at the child in a disbelieving way.

"No." He croaks as he begins to shake all over again.

"England" France says in alarm.

"It's my fault. It's all my _fault_." He wails.

France pulls America away and feels his his chest fill with dread. Grasping the younger man's narrow shoulders France hisses "What do you _mean_? What did you _do_?! What Arthur?! What did you do!" He all but howls, shaking the man as he begins to choke on tears once more. "_Tell me!_" He roars and England quakes staring at him with wide eyes.

"_A__rrêter!" _Canada yells tugging England away from him.

"_Mathieu_!" France growls. "'e is 'iding something!" He shouts at the child. The older nation makes a grab for the little colony, but the child scuttles away as his twin barrels into France.

"Leave my brothers alone!" America screeches hitting France in the stomach, the older blond doubles over clutching his middle.

"You-" France wheezes, but the boy ignores him in favor of falling into England's lap next to his brother. France watches with no small amount of anger and jealousy as Canada and America try and sooth their caretaker as he continues to tell them it's his fault and that he's _sorry.  
_

Why is it, even when England is the one at fault, that the colonies still choose _him?_

* * *

**So another chapter! I hope everyone enjoyed it. Thanks for reading and please _review_!**

**_Words:_  
**

**_Arrêter: Stop  
_**

**_Mathieu: Matthew  
_**

**_Angleterre: England  
_**

** If any french or its grammar is incorrect please tell me.  
**


	5. Come What May

_Come What May  
_

* * *

Walking over to the simply made table, France sets the hot-pot of porridge on the table beside the sugar bowl and apples gathered from the trees out back.

"_Merci." _Canada whispers pushing his dish to England who's serving the meal to the twins and himself.

"Here you are Matthew." Arthur smiles placing the dish in front of the young blond. Frances watches with growing irritation as he grabs his own dish and jerks the ladle from the Englishmen's grip. "France! You're spraying breakfast on me! Wash day is still four days away, I'd like to wear this until then!" He huffs leaning back in his chair.

"_D__ésolé._" France bites out flopping into his own seat. France waits over an interval of a few spoonfuls as he waits for last nights events to be discussed, after his third bite he begins to tap his foot in impatience.

"England will you cut me up an apple?" America whines pushes the fruit into his caretaker's hand.

"What do you say Alfred?" England chides, but none the less does the child's bidding.

"Thank you!" America hums scarfing down a his porridge.

Handing a half to America, England sets aside his knife and picks up his spoon once more. "So boys what do you want to do today?" He asks glancing between the children.

"Oh! I-" America starts, but is cut off by France slamming his hands down on the table and causing it to rattle.

"What is wrong with you!" He growls at the trio. "'ow can you act like nothing 'as 'appened! _Something _attacked _mon cher Mathieu_ and I know it's _your _fault _rosbif_!" He all but screams at the younger nation. The twins shrink into their seats cowering and just shy of tears. Shooting up from his chair England snarls at France.

"Wrong with _me_? What about _you_?! discussing this in front of the _children_!" He shouts back at France the tips of his ears a roaring red.

France scoffs. "Why _shouldn't _we? It _involves _them, _Mathieu _especially!" He yells.

"All the more reason! It's not right to worry with incessantly!" England growls.

"_incessantly_? You are the one at fault! They need to know what you've done!" France howls.

"STOP!" America shrieks. "Mattie doesn't like it when you guys fight!" He cries.

France watches England pale, suddenly his gaze breaks away from France to usher the boys off their chairs. "Why don't you two go play outside for a bit? France and I will call you back when we finish 'talking'." He tells them.

"You're just gonna yell more aren't you?" America accuses. France finds himself feeling guilty at the way England bites at his bottom lip as he stares into his colony's eyes.

"We'll try not to." He sighs.

America juts his lower lip out in a sulky pout as he snatches his brother's hand to lead him outside. "C'mon Mattie we'll go pull farmer Macdonald's cats' tails."

England's eyebrows scrunch together for a moment, giving a look of mild irritation. "You better not, if Mr. Macdonald catches you I'm not going to come rescue you." He warns and France wonders why he isn't wagging his finger at the boy.

America's pout turns into a glare. "We'll do what we want!" He snaps and before England can reprimand him anymore he pulls his younger twin out the front door.

"Matthew keep your brother out of trouble! Alright?!" He shouts after the duo.

When England finally turns his attention back to France, the older man flexes his face into a look of annoyance and anger while crossing his arms for good measure. England exhales and his shoulders droop into a glum posture as he waves a hand at one of the abandoned chairs. "You might as well sit down. This will take a bit to explain." He murmurs to France.

France snorts, but listens to England and throws himself into a chair if only to glare at England from across the table. "Well?" He demands as the Englishman fidgets with his tea.

Glancing up England flushes pink. "Yes, sorry." He apologizes. The blond is quiet for a minute stirring his tea before he whispers "It found me."

Leaning his elbows on the table, France let's his chin be caught by his hands as he breathes "_What _found you?"

"Monster." He hisses, eyes darting around the modest walls as if searching for the thing's very presence.

France raises an eyebrow and holds back a snicker. "Monster? Isn't that a bit juvenile? Even for you?" He argues.

"Just because you are blind to part of the world doesn't mean it doesn't exist!" England snaps.

France rolls his eyes and laughs mockingly at the younger nation. "Is this about your faeries and unicorns again? _Really rosbif-_"

"Matthew sees them too." England blurts over him.

France's jaw drops. "You-" He chokes and then he clenches his fist and screams "You dirty liar! _Mon chou_ is not _insane! _I should 'ave never let you take 'im! Your delusions 'ave only gotten worse with age!"

"I'm not making this up Francis! What would I gain from it?" England counters.

"To turn my former colony against me!" France accuses.

"You're going to do it yourself before I ever get the chance to!" England shouts. "You won't even accept Canada completely!"

"I can't believe you! This! You are bat-shit insane and _I'm _not sticking around to 'ear what you come up with next!" France yells as he stocks to the door reaching for his cloak on the way.

"Fine! I'll get rid of the monster myself! I don't need _you_!" Growls England.

Swinging around, France bellows. "Good _luck_! You can't get rid of something that isn't _real!_" cackling cruelly he storms out the front door missing the twins entirely from where they peak out around the corner of the house.

Running away from his hiding spot, Canada wails. "France!" But, the Frenchman doesn't turn. "_Papa!" _He shrieks and he makes to run after his colonizer when arms wrap around him, rooting him to the spot. "Let go! Let go! LET GO!" He sobs kicking out his feet and throwing himself away from his captor.

"Mattie..." America mutters.

"_Non_!" Canada howls as he breaks down in his brother's arm tears and snot racing down his face. "Come back, come back, come back..." The tiny Canadian begins to chant. Steps sound from behind and suddenly, large arms surrounds both him and his twin.

"Shhh..." England hushes. "Don't worry lads stiff upper lips now, we don't need him and we _especially _don't need his help!" The young man declares. "It's not like he believes us anyway...stupid f-frog..." Arthur's voice wavers. "That _idiot_..." He hiccups and it's not long until Canada and America feels wet drops on their fair heads.

Tilting his head upwards, Canada sees his mother nation's tear streaked red face and in that moment he forgets his own despair as fury bubbles in his chest. How _dare _France. He's not just left Canada (again), but England too and it's then Canada decides this is one event he will never _ever _forget and one slight he will never ever, _ever _forgive France for.

* * *

**Fifth chapter! Please review and tell me what you like what you don't like, whatever you want. Thanks for reading!  
**

**_Words:_**

**_Non: No_**

**_Papa: Dad_**

**_Merci: Thanks_**

**___D__ésolé: Sorry_**

**_Rosbif: Roast Beef (Insult)_**

**_Mon Chou: Sweetie_**

**_(Mon Cher) Mathieu: (My Dear) Matthew_**


	6. I Tell Myself I'll be Strong

_I Tell Myself I'll be Strong_

* * *

Once England's sobs die down to whimpers and finally to uneven breathing America comes to the decision that it's time for him to be the hero, 'cause France is gone and England is obviously too upset over what France did to him, _them_, to take charge. Pulling against England's hold, he manages to break out of it and turns around to face his caretaker and brother. He frowns, both Mattie and Arthur appear dazed and sad.

"England...?" He mumbles, almost nervous of what his big brother will do. Some life comes back to his brother's eyes and they begin to focus on America, encouraged he repeats "England?"

The older nation shifts and he tilts his head to face his younger brother. "What Alfred?" He whispers, voice dull.

Alfred bites his lip. "Um...are you-we gonna be okay?" He murmurs.

England seems to wilt. "Of course, I'll be fine, I'm always fine." He exhales. Canada mutters something that is almost inaudible. "What's that lad?" England implores.

Raising his voice, Canada states "He's not coming back, is he."

England trembles slightly and he hugs Canada. "No, I doubt it." The blond chokes.

"England! Let's go inside! I can make us tea!" America says hurriedly, trying to distract his caretaker from his sorrows.

Arthur blinks. "You're too little to be making tea, Alfred, you might burn yourself." He tells him.

"Then will you please?" America begs, he doesn't want his brother to fall into another fit of tears so soon.

"If that's what you want." England grumbles, pushing himself to his feet with Mattie still in the crook of his arm.

Trailing at his caretaker's feet, America gives several vigorous nods even though his colonizer can not see. "Yes please." He agrees. The trio walks back into the house where four bowls of food still sit-hot-on the table. When England's gate hesitates, America scuttles around him to clear away France's place. "Tear?" He repeats.

"Ah, yes." England mumbles, stopping over at the table to put Canada in his spot. Crawling up into his own seat, America smiles over at his brother. His smile becomes a grin when his brother's lips twitch up at the ends. It's a few minutes later when England brings over the kettle and three cups. "Here you boys are." He sighs, filling the cups individually before placing them in front of the twins.

"Thanks England!" America chirps for him and his fellow colony.

"You're welcome." England hums taking his own seat. The group is silent as they munch at their breakfast, America occasionally glancing between his younger and older brother.

When only flecks of porridge is left in his bowl, America slaps his spoon on the bottom of his dish as he decides how to question England on what he and Canada heard crouched bellow the kitchen window. But, surprising America, Canada is the one to gain the courage first. "You said monster found you? Who's that?" Canada demands.

The cup in England's hands slips from his grasp and shatters on the floor as his face turns stark white. "England!" America cries jumping up from his seat.

Shaking visibly, England bends down to pick up the bigger pieces. "I'm f-fine." He stammers, but suddenly hisses as a sharp edge cuts the pads of his fingers.

"Stop!" America wails. "I've got it." He tells his brother pushing away his hands as he begins to gather up the pieces.

"America, you might hurt yourself..." The older nation mutters.

"Well you've hurt yourself an' you're the adult!" He snaps at England. England stills suddenly, staring at America with large eyes. Just as America see England's eyes begin to crinkle, he releases the broken bits he held and lets them clatter to the floor as he begs of England "Don't cry, I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"

It's too late and by the time America's clambered into England's lap and wrapped his skinny arms around his colonizer's neck, the older nation is snuffling softly.

As tears leak from the corner of his eyes, England apologizes. "I'm s-sorry boys, I should be the one comforting you two. But, I..." He stops for a moment and takes a deep breath."You know, Canada, this isn't the first time your papa's-"

"He's not my papa anymore." Canada growls.

The older nation stares at Canada. "Yes, well, he once was in love with a human woman and she was _very_ much like you. She had the gift, not as strong as yours, but it was there. I realized this when my army captured her and locked her away in a cell...I tried to tell France and he-he didn't believe me then either."

"Why not!" Canada yells.

America stares up at England's eyes and holds his breath as they glitter once more. "I think...he's afraid. " England whispers. "For there to be something...something he can't _see_ or _hear_, not even_ sense _it makes him feel useless, weak. He can't control it, protect those he cares for from them..." England's voice fades off and his eyes become a distant evergreen. "Canada..." He breathes.

"Yes?" Canada whispers, leaning in.

"Don't hate him, if not for him, not for you, for _me_. I wouldn't be able to stand the thought that I've stolen someone he cares for from him again." England pleads, training his emerald-green on Canada's violet.

"I don't hate him." Canada lies, gaze wavering as he glances to the door.

England smiles sadly. "I see." He mutters.

Little hands curling into fists, Canada's eyes snap back to England glaring fiercely. "I don't!" He shouts.

"Mattie-" America tries.

"But out Al, eh!" Canda snarls at his brother and before either England or America can say another word, Canada is gone from his seat and up the ladder to the loft.

"Matthew!" America howls. England's arms lock around the smaller blond and hold him in place.

"Shh..." He hushes.

"Mattie...!" America whimpers clinging to his caretaker.

Placing a kiss on his brother's crown, England mumbles. "I don't want you to hate him either."

Lifting his head, America gazes straight into England's eyes. "I'll try not to." He declares and a broken smile pieces itself together on England's lips.

Squeezing him, England murmurs. "Thank you, that's all I ask." America relaxes at this, relieved to see his caretaker coming back to himself.

* * *

**Yay! Another chapter, I really want to finish this before school gets going. Thanks for reading and please review!**


	7. I'm All Alone and the Fire Grows

_I'm All Alone and the Fire Grows_

* * *

France is rarely one to ever drink just to become drunk, but tonight he is reconsidering. Sipping at the swill the innkeeper had called beer, France gives a wench clearing a table a lecherous smile. She glows pink and grins back at him and when she moves over to another table, sways her hips suggestively. The wench is plain and the Frenchman knows he could easily attract a more beautiful girl, but he really doesn't care who he takes to bed with him this evening.

Guzzling back the rest of the "beer" France saunters over to the girl and traps her against a table. "_Bonjour_ _mademoiselle_, you look _beau _tonight..."

The girl blushes a healthy red and giggles. "A Frenchman, aye?"

"_Oui_" France purrs into her ear.

She shivers against him and one of her hands comes to rest on top of his. "I hear the French are wonderful lovers..." She murmurs, batting her eyes at him.

France tosses his head back and laughs. "I guess you'll find out won't you?" He tells her, puffing his worm breath into her face. The girl's eyes sparkle as she moves in flush against him.

"Yes..." She hums, but before she can finish, the door to the inn slams open and several men rush in.

"The house on the hill north of here is on fire!" One man yells. While men and women around him scramble to help, France stills.

House...north...hill..."_Mathieu_..." He mutters. Suddenly, France is shoving past the crowd of people and running towards the glowing lump in the distance. High on adrenaline, France reaches the burning home. His eyes flicker around the group surrounding the house, hoping to see his _Mathieu, _Alfred or even Arthur.

"Lemme go! My brothers are in there!" A voice shrieks. The Frenchman turns his head to see four soot covered men holding a struggling child.

Pushing past everyone, France yells "_Amérique_!"

The child's face turns and soulful blue eyes meet his. "Francis!" The child wails tearing away from the men.

Catching the boy as he throws himself at him, France demands "Where is your _frère_? Arthur?"

Gazing up at the older nation, fat tears slide down his face. "They're still inside!" He sobs.

"_Quoi_?" France gapes. The colony only sobs, growling France hoists the child off on a woman beside him. He then proceeds to ignore Alfred's screams as he races into the blazing house.

The Frenchman keeps his sleeve pressed to his mouth and nose as he peers through the haze of smoke. Something above him crackles and France only has a second to spare as he jumps aside, a piece of burning timber falling where he last stood. "_Merde_!" He swears, he can't keep this up. "_Mathieu! _Arthur!" He yells into the house, praying one of them will answer.

Stumbling through the smoke and embers, France screams "Arthur! _Mathieu_!" Just as he is about to lose hope a wail answers his own.

"Francis!" France stops, the voice came from where Arthur's room is. He berates himself then, _of course _they're in there. Arthur and him slept their with the boys just last night.

Coughing, France shouts back "Stay there! I'm coming for you!"

"Hurry! Matthew's not doing well, a beam fell on him and-and-hurry!" Arthur cries.

Knowing he cannot waste another moment, France hurries around the small fires dotting the room and to Arthur's room. Shoving open the half-closed door France peers into the room to see England's soot covered cheeks streaked with tear tracks. He then glances down to see Canada's head laying on England's lap, his violet eyes only slits and his mouth open and gasping. Holding out his hands, England hiccups "I-I couldn't-t..."

France stares at the younger man's palms, blistered and raw, black in some spots. Rushing over to the two, France says "It's okay." England's eyes go wide and he looks at France in disbelief, but doesn't object. "Now, one last time, on the count of three." He tells the younger nation. "One, two, three!" and together, the two men shoved the timber off the little boy.

"Matthew!" England sobs in relief, taking the boy into his arms and cradling him like he's something precious. A knife of guilt stabs France then, Canada's supposed to be _his_, but...France is the one who's abandoned him again and again and here is _Angleterre. _Refusing to leave the child even when he is endangering his own life by doing so, with a pang of realization France comes to see that England will always be his better in the ways of sacrifice, loyalty and of all things _love._

Holding back a bitter laugh, France stands up pulling England up along with him. "We need to leave." He hisses at the green-eyed man.

Hugging the limp Matthew to his chest, England nods his head. "Yes, yes of course." Keeping a grip on the younger man's wrist, France leads them back the way he came and out of the house, just in time for it to collapse.

Screams fill the air, but only one draws their attention. "_Arthuuurrr! Maaattie!_

England shouts over the voices. "Alfred! Where are you lad?"

A tiny figure barrels into them. "I th-thought you were all _dead!_" He shrieks.

Falling to his knees, England takes the boy into his other arm. "No, never. We're a bit tougher than that, you know." He whispers to the golden-haired child. "Now, calm down...everything's going to be just fine."

"I-I" America sobs into his colonizers chest.

England chuckles and plants a kiss on the boy's cheek. "I think you have something to say to Francis?"

Big, watery blue eyes train on France. "Thank you, I'll never forget this." He says to France and the little boy crawls out of England's lap and over to France, wrapping his tiny arms around his legs.

France flushes and picks the child up. "I don't know if I should be the one you thank, after all, I'm not nearly as selfless as your big brother..."

Pressing a kiss on the Frenchman's dirty cheek America mumbles. "I don't care, _you saved them._"

Something in France ached, he didn't think Canada would think the same once he woke.

* * *

**Another Chapter! Please review, anything you have to say would be very helpful and thanks for reading!**

_**Words:**_

**_Oui: Yes_**

**_Quoi: What_**

**__****_Merde: Shit_**

**_Bonjour: Hello_**

**_Frère: Brother_**

**_Beau: Beautiful_**

**_Mathieu: Matthew_**

**___Mademoiselle: Miss_**

**__****_Amérique: America_**

**__****__****_Angleterre: England_**


	8. Clouds Rage In

_Clouds Rage In_

* * *

_**Two weeks later...**_

This is temporary, he's just waiting for them to love him again so he can _leave_ and _crush _them all over _again. _Canada tells himself as he watches the Frenchman play with his traitor brother on the evening lawn. The bearded man tosses his twin into the air causing Al to erupt into a round of laughter. Footfall comes up from behind, yet Canada can't tear his gaze away from France and America. A voice, so much like the scary man, whispers that it's because France always liked America more, _wanted _him; not strange Canada.

"France would be happy to play with you too, Matthew." England whispers to him.

Glancing out of the corner of his eye, Canada quickly looks away and plucks up a dandelion. "_I _don't want to play with _him._" He hisses viciously.

England sighs and says to him. "He said he was sorry."

"He can say it a million times, buy us a thousand new houses, a hundred new wardrobes! Bring us as many toys as we want, fix us every meal forever, but _I won't forgive him!_" The tiny blond howls, rising up on his feet and glares at his caretaker. England stares at him, his face a mixture of startlement and pain. It causes Canada's resolve to crumble, he's not mad at _Arthur, _Francis, yes, himself too. Lip trembling, Canada tackles England and sobs "Sorry! I'm sorry!"

England's arms don't hesitate, (_France's did_) they come around Canada and cradle him (_not a quick pat)._ "I know, I know my dear one." He utters into Canada's ear.

Matthew wraps his legs around Arthur's torso and hiccups in the older nation's neck. "I didn't-t-" He stutters."

"I understand little one..." England sighs placing a kiss to his crown. "Why don't we go inside and have some tea, hm?" And the Englishman smiles when the little boy nods his head. He then lifts his gaze to see France and America standing a few feet away wearing identical expressions of worry. Putting out a hand, England smiles. "How about it Alfred? I think we need to have a long chat over a pot of tea, just the three of us." England adds and he sees the way France's face turns stricken. It makes him feel badly, but there is nothing he can do about it. Alfred runs at England grasping the hand and using the momentum England swings the child up into the air eliciting a breathy giggle.

"I want honey in my tea!" America cheers, letting go of England's hand to run inside.

Twisting his head back, England sends France an apologetic smile. The man smiles back, but it's bitter and envious. "I think I shall go for a walk." France announces, turning away from them and heading for the road. England frowns, but he knows this is for the best.

"Is he...is he coming back?" Canada murmurs.

Patting the little boy's back, England answers with more confidence than he feels. "Yes, he will."

**XxXxX**

It's a lull in the chatter that England decides it's the best time to bring up monster. Setting his teacup down, the blond clears his throat. "Matthew...Alfred..." He starts. Blue and Violet orbs train on him, innocent and questioning. England's heart pangs. "Boys...how did you meet monster?" He questions.

The twins glance between each other and after a silent conversation Canada answers. "I saw him in your room one night, I had gotten up to get you 'cause Al wet the bed and...he was just standing there. He was _looking_ at you and I asked him who he was." Canada quiets for a moment and then he whispers. "He smiled, his teeth were all pointy."

"Canada brought upstairs." America butts in. "I can't see him or nothin', but Mattie told me about him and stuff."

Face uneasy, Canada murmurs. "He seemed nice."

Horror stricken, England breathes. "He hurt you."

"He always said sorry..." Canada rebukes.

"And you didn't _tell _me." England mutters.

"He said not to!" America bites.

"That fire..." England mumbles. Suddenly, the Englishman's hand shoots across the table and grasps Canada's forearm. "You tell me if he shows up again, got it!" He growls.

"Okay!" Canada squeaks wriggling to get out of the Englishman's grip. Letting the child go, England brings a hand to his head.

"I think it's time we put you boys to bed." Arthur sighs. Neither of the children protest as England lead them to their bedroom and tucks them into their separate beds. It's when England moves to put out the candle that America raises his voice.

"What's gonna happen if scary man shows up?"

Petting the boy's golden locks, England takes a seat on the edge of the bed. "You two will go with France to Canada's house up north and I will wait for your uncle Scotland."

Big blue and purple eyes turn worried. "All _alone_?" America mutters.

England exhales. "I don't think we have much a choice lad, he came looking for me in the first place..."

"He wants me to!" Canada declares. "He said so!"

England's face turns ashen. "He-He wants _you?!_" England whispers alarmed.

Canada gives a resolute nod. "Uh-huh, so you _can't_ send me away!" The boy finishes.

Catching on, America shouts. "I won't go if Mattie won't! You can't make me either, I'm _tons_ stronger than you!"

England's hands tremble as he pushes them back down into their pillows. "We'll figure out something, I just sent your uncle a letter saying we moved homes. I don't expect him to come for another month, two more likely, at least." Canada frowns. He knows this argument isn't finished, but he'll fight until the end; where England allows them to stay or send him kicking and screaming with _France. _"Sleep tight boys." England mumbles kissing both of their cheeks, before leaving the room.

Well into the night, after hours of tossing in nightmarish sleep, Matthew awakes. Something dark hovers over him, lifting a hand to scrub at his eyes, the dark thing's shape shifts and a crescent of sharp shards glisten...

* * *

**Another chapter! You know all those reviews I got last chapter? Well thank you everyone for reviewing and reading. Do you guys think we could get that many this chapter too? I would appreciate anything and everything you have to say about this or other stories of mine.**

***Poll on page for what should be updated next***


	9. Cleaning Wounds

_Cleaning Wounds_

* * *

"Matthew!" Arthur shouts, tumbling out of bed. Running down the hall he yanks on the door and finds he can't open it. "Matthew!" Arthur cries slamming himself into the door. A muffled sob echoes from behind the door and Arthur's heart twists as tears fall slick down his cheeks.

"Out of the way."

Arthur turns to see France, sniffling, Arthur bites. "How are you going to get in? I couldn't!"

Icy gray creeps over then Frenchman's normally sea blue. "'e is mine just as much as 'e is yours." Francis growls and abruptly the man charges at the door. The older nation tumbles as the door splinters around him and Arthur cries out.

"Matthew!" He shouts tripping over the Frenchman as he hastens to get into the childrens' room.

"Arthur!Arthur!He-he-!" Matthew wails shoving himself at his caretaker.

Hands skimming over every inch of the boy, Arthur gives a whimper of relief as he finds no new physical damage to his colony. "I know, I know," Arthur soothes one hand carding through the child's hair and the other cradling his neck.

"He's gonna get meeeee!" The Canadian howls into his elder nation's ear. Arthur winces, yet he does not let go. Matthew relaxes into the strong grip and lets his tears slip into the crevices between Arthur's neck and shoulder. "He'll hurt Al and you to." He murmurs.

"Never."

Arthur's chin lifts and Matthew twist his head to peer behind and sees France staring at them with blazing eyes. The violet eyed boy shivers and curls his fingers tighter into Arthur's collar. "You can't promise! You won't even stay!" Canada accuses.

"He said he would!" Alfred pipes up from the other bed.

Pulling away from Arthur to glare at his twin, Canada shouts. "He won't! He lies! He did it before!"

"_Mathieu_!" France barks and the child shrinks back in Arthur's arms shivering as if the Frenchman had struck him. Holding back a pained sigh, France approaches the wounded pair as one would approach a mistreated cat; slowly and openly. Licking his lips, France puts his hand inches from Arthur and _Mathieu_ "I _am _sorry." He whispers. "More than you'll ever know _mon ange._" Then glancing to Arthur's wide green, France murmurs. "_I'm sorry_."

"Stop!" Matthew hiccups. "You're not! You'll leave again! Stop lying!" The boy begs.

Tears stinging at his eyes, France reaches out to touch the boy's wet face. "_Mathieu_..."

"_Non!_" The child cries in French. "You won't touch me! Never again!" The child orders.

France gasps and a hand comes to knead at his chest. "_Mon ange..._" He breathes.

Tears spilling from his eyes Canada hisses. "I'm not your _ange_, I'm a demon! I heard you! You think I'm evil 'cause I see what Arthur sees! You wanted Alfred all along!" The child shrieks little chest fluttering sporadically. England strengthens his grip on the boy as he fights back more tears.

Matthew isn't wrong, yet he isn't right either. There is no fixing this, Matthew knows why France will always leave; yet he doesn't know why the man keeps coming back. England knows, it's the same bloody reason he keeps letting the bastard come back. Love. It drives this twisted family, they pine for each other, for whoever they so desperately want to be theirs.

France takes a step back and stares. "_Non..._I-"

"Francis." Arthur buts in, voice low. Pained blue lifts to meet his own cracked emerald, "You need to give Matthew time." He whispers, hoping for once the man will _listen_ to him.

France's hands ball into fists and he gives an acknowledging tilt of his head. "_Oui._" He murmurs through clenched teeth and leaves the room.

"He's not _leaving, _leaving; is he?" America whispers from his own rumpled bed.

"No." Arthur states, yet his voice wobbles.

"I wish he _would_." Matthew spits, venomously.

"Why are you being so cruel to Francis? He loves you Matthew." Arthur murmurs.

"_He _was cruel first! _He _left _us_! _You_! _me_! He _hurt _you!" Matthew rages.

England gives the little boy the bitterest of smiles. "My boy, Francis has hurt me many times; more times than I shall ever be able to count. I've hurt him too, maybe fewer times, but always in the most crippling ways I can." He explains to the child.

Some of Canada's certainty wavers and he gazes hard at England. "You _feel_ it more." He whispers. England doesn't argue, it's true. Every stab and cold look he can recall, it never recedes or fades; always there for his mind to call back in the deadest of hours. "And he isn't ever _sorry_, but-but-you _are_." The child continues on with growing passion. "He can see you _cry_, yet his eyes stay cold; he always thinks he's _justified_." The boy finishes with a disgusted sneer.

England takes the boy's quiet as a chance to explain on the behalf of France. "Your _papa_-and don't tell me he isn't-is a flawed man, his anger powerful, his inability to see that he _can_ be wrong are two of his most noticable. But, my dear, don't forget to see his good qualities. He's the king in love, romantic or otherwise, a slave to any cause he sees just and above all, _he cares for you._" The blond finishes.

Canada blinks and his body sways with tiredness. "I-I don't know if I believe you..." He utters. England captures the child in his arms and smiles.

"You don't have to, but _please_ won't you give your papa another chance?" Arthur begs, tone urgent, though still soft. The child gives a breathy yawn and snuggles into his guardian's chest.

"Maybe, tell you 'morrow." He slurs falling asleep. England stares at the tiny Canadian as little feet from behind patter over.

"Are you mad at France, Alfred?" He questions the other brother.

Settling beside England Alfred pets his twin's curl. "Was. He rescued you guys, though, I know he loves us." He explains.

Arthur smiles at the young colony. "That's very mature of you Al." He compliments and the boy blushes and grins at Arthur.

"Whatever Artie. Are ya gonna stay with us tonight?" He inquires.

England's shoulder's slump. "Yes, from now on. I can't risk this happening again."

"Okay, let's go to sleep then?" He says, voice lilting in uncertainty.

"Yes." England agrees pulling the child down with him to lay out on the mattress to sleep. "Good night Alfred."

Leaning over to kiss his brother's chin, America grins sleepily. "Night-night Artie." The pair quickly drift off into their first restful sleep in days.

* * *

**Sorry it's taking so long to update stories, but I have school _and _work to contend with. Anyway, to those of you who actually read my little notes at the end; I want to know if you'd like me to switch back to modern-day for a chapter or two to see the twins reactions to the story or finishes the real story before skipping back to modern-day. Thanks for reading and please review (think I could get five, like I did a few chapters back?)!**

***Poll on page for what I should update next, I use the results to decide what needs updating about every other week.**

_**Words:**_

_**(Mon) Ange: (My) Angel**_

_**Mathieu: Matthew**_

_**Non: No**_

_**Oui: Yes**_


	10. Dare You to Stay

_Dare You to Stay _

* * *

Tucking the quilt around the twins' shoulders Arthur's lips lilt upward briefly before falling to a frown at the sound of creaking floorboards in the other room. He can't prolong this anymore, he must see to Francis before the man thinks of any new bad ideas-like leaving (again)-only the queen knows what it would do to Matthew and Alfred (him too, if he was to admit it). Straightening, Arthur lifts his chin and walks out of the twins room. He cannot help but cast a backward glance; he's afraid to leave the boys alone for long, yet he know this conversation shouldn't happen in same room as the boys.

Stepping into the front room, Arthur isn't surprised to see Francis pulling on his jacket with a frustration he'd witnessed on him a thousand time before. Arthur steals himself in preparation for the despair and tears that always come with it, but instead he finds himself filled with a rage that causes him to shake. "Don't you dare." He snarls and icy blue eyes that England always fancied were like the devils turn on him.

"What?" He huffs, straightening out his collar and France reaches for the hat set on the dinning table. England grinds his teeth together and allows his trembling fingers to bring themselves into fists. This _god awful _man, how can he be so insolent? Even _now_!

"You know what!" Arthur snaps.

"_Non_, I do not _rosbif_." France sneers flipping his hair with a flick of his hand.

"Liar!" Arthur cries, "You're-You're going to _leave._" He accuses. The French stare back at the red flushed Englishman in apathy, not hinting at a single emotion and for a reason that Arthur cannot decipher it only further angers him. "Don't you care?!" He cries.

"Why should I? _Mon ange_-wait 'e isn't anymore, is 'e? 'e's _yours _now-doesn't care one bit if I stay or go." The man says some of his pain finally leaking into his pitch.

Arthur barks out an inappropriate laugh. "Doesn't _care_? Your his _world _you dolt!" Arthur yells.

France ruffles and crosses his arms and then he uncrossed them. "You 'eard 'im I'm-I'm not..._I'm not 'is world any longer_..." Francis finishes in less than a whisper.

Arthur reaches out, but catches himself bringing his hand back to his chest. "The boy's upset, he will not hold it against you forever." England placated.

The smile France gives Arthur is all sharp edges and full of vicious points. "That's where you are wrong, _Mathieu_ takes after me in that way; 'e 'olds grudges. The boy maybe you in all of his tenderness and unearthly loveliness, but 'e is _moi_ in the worst of ways." The blond bites out.

England isn't able to stop himself as he grabs on to the Frenchman and pulls him back to himself, back into his life. "_Don't say that!_" He growls. "Don't tell me the child is incapable of forgiveness or that he doesn't have any of your good qualities, because he _can _and he _does! _He will forgive you in time, I can already see some of the hurt leaving him, it will just be a little while longer; don't you see? I see good that belongs to you as well as to him, that child, he loves stronger than I ever possibly could and _don't_ tell me he didn't get that from _you_!" England declares squeezing the Frenchman's arm with a strength that would have broken a mortal's wrist.

France continues to gaze at Arthur with unreadable eyes and not for the first time, Arthur wishes that he was better at reading others. "...What if 'e doesn't?" France murmurs distantly.

"Doesn't what?" Arthur mumbles thoroughly perplexed.

"Forgive me." He utters in a small voice, but it carries easily in the air to Arthur.

"He will, he loves you." Arthur tells France with true confidence.

The emotions drain away from France once more and he falls back dissociating himself as much as he can from Arthur. "I love you, but I will never forgive you for what you did to _'er*_."

Arthur can't stop the flinch that rises up from the depths of his body. "And I will never ask you to." Arthur says savagely.

France's eye shutter back to the present and his slender fingers reach out grasping Arthur's face in a cradling hold. "Oh Arthur, but I am _so sorry_." He murmurs voice fractured and bleeding.

"Then show it." England dares.

"'ow?" France begs, eyes searching Arthur's his shoulders slumped in defeat.

"You stay." Arthur breathes his nubby fingers coming to cover Francis's artist hands. France gives a faint nod of his head and with their hands still glued together, they walk back into the boy's bedroom to watch over the pair for the rest of the night.

* * *

**Sooo...I'm sorry it took me so long to update, I lost my drive for this story for a while there (if you can't tell by the shortness of the chapter). I'm back at it now and I've figured out where this is gonna go I think within the next chapter or the one after I'll swing it back around to the present to see how the boys are taking England's and France's story. Any who, thank you all who are still reading this and _please_ review.**

***If you're having trouble figuring out who this "her" is, I'm talking about Jeanne 'd Arc, who was important to France and killed by the English.**

_**Words:**_

_**Non-No**_

_**Moi-Me**_

_**Rosbif-Insult**_

_**Mathieu-Matthew**_

_**Mon Ange-My Angel**_


	11. Fallout

_Fallout_

* * *

"I think that's a good stopping point as any," England remarks. He rises to his feet and stretches his arms above his head causing his shirt to ride up ever so slightly, but it draws Francis's attention like a moth to a flame. Giving his two once-brothers an uneasy smile England implores. "Why don't we have some dinner and we can finish the tale tomorrow?"

A blissful smile gliding across his lips France claps his hands and agrees. "_Oui_! 'ow about fish tonight?" He inquires. Arthur smiles back and drops his arms back to his side, before bringing them up to situate his shirt once more.

"Sounds lovely." He sighs. "How about it boys?" He inquires eyeing them curiously.

Canada's hands clench and unclench, he opens his mouth before snapping it shut with a hard click as his brother yells. "How-How can you guys be so nonchalant!? And _stop_? We deserve to know how it ends! After all, _it's just a missing memory_!" Alfred's gotten to his feet by the end of his rant and he's breathing heavy and hard, but Matthew can't help but think Alfred has no right to be so indignant. This tale, memory, isn't even truly about him; it's about Canada.

Arthur looks hurt and Matthew has to bit his tongue from lashing out at his brother for drawing up such a look on their elder brother of once-upon-a-time, because the older man deserves what Alfred spat at him this time. "I was hoping you boys were taking it well with how quiet you were being, but I guess..." Arthur trails off sounding pained.

"Don't blame Arthur, he would have allowed both of you to remember." France scolded Alfred, "I'm the one who told him to do otherwise. I didn't think either of you would push it to the back of your minds and forget like Arthur, you two were always a bit more stubborn that way." He smirked.

Arthur pipes in. "I only did it so he wouldn't beat you two over the head with a boulder." He says, a bit of a grin on his lips.

"Well, thanks I guess." Canada mutters dryly.

"You understand don't you Matthew? Why this was important to keep from you?" Arthur implores hopefully.

"Does this mean I'm going to start seeing things again?" He asks.

Arthur shakes his head. "You never stopped, my memory blocking spell didn't inhibit you abilities." He explains.

"But..." Canada grunts.

"My boy, people are always forgetting you; as unfortunate as that maybe, it means they don't notice when you see things that they don't." Arthur sighs looking at him sadly.

"I don't see fairies or unicorns." Canada grumbles, a bit put-off at Arthur's comment.

"You don't have any unicorns in Canada and few fae for that matter." Arthur answers jovially.

"Then what do I have?" Canada frowned.

England tapped at his chin and then smiled. "That bigfoot fellow, a number of trolls and nomes and a water monster in one lake or another." He says, yet England shrugs. "I've never put much research in your mystical creatures, if you like we can look into it together." At this the older man appears oddly hopeful, but also doubtful.

Canada sucks in a breath between his teeth and doesn't say anything at first."...Why didn't you fight France? Why did you let him do what he did?" He inquires, he still doesn't understand why England would sit back and allow that to happen.

The emerald eyes glimmer and shine and then, they dull. "Oh my child...I couldn't say no, not then. You two wanted everything to be like before so badly and I..." He trails off.

"What?" Canada demands.

"I hated to see the bad blood between you and your papa, especially since I caused it." He sighs. "If I hadn't told him about your sight..." He murmurs, voice fading into the past. "Are you upset with us?" Arthur worbles after a pause.

"Hell yeah!" America cries and at the same time, Canada says.

"No."

America gapes at his brother. "Why the hell not dude? They _lied _to us!" He exclaims waving his arms about.

"Why should I be mad at Arthur? He was just trying to fix a broken relationship. France on the other hand..." Canada mutters, hands clenching at his side.

"Not this again! _Mathieu_ I didn't ask Arthur to make you forget for my own agenda!" He argues, scowling at his ex-colony.

Matthew flicks a frosty glare at his colonizer and whispers. "Then why did you?" The older nation's mouth drops and he grasps for explanations, but none come in time for the young nation. With a sneer, he reaches for the jacket he tossed over his armchair hours ago and turns to his brother.

"C'mon Al, we'll go get McDonalds eh?" He suggests.

Alfred whoops in his excitement before chuckling in embarssement as he casts apologetic looks to his colonizers. "Sorry dudes, we'll catch ya later?" He finishes lilting his voice into a question.

Arthur gives the twins a pained grin and nods his head. "Yes, if you wish to know the rest of the story, I suggest you find us-me-I suppose." He comments.

"Alright, we'll hit your hotel tomorrow! You guys can let yourselves out alright?" Alfred tells the older nations as he zips up his bomber jacket.

"Okay." Arthur agrees and with one flash of a smile Alfred is gone after his brother leaving the two older nations alone.

"_Merde_!" France cries at the slam of the frontdoor.

"Francis-" Arthur starts, but is stopped in shock as the Frenchman swings his leg forward breaking the coffee table.

"Why!? Why is it always my fault to 'im?!" He screams, hands clenched at his side and his shoulders jerking up with his erratic breathing.

Arthur stills, his own hearbeat uneven as he tries to calm himself down enought to calm his long time rival and friend. "Shh...Francis." He mumbles coming to lay a gentle hand on his fellow man's arm.

"_Non_!" He yells, pulling away.

"Please..." Arthur mumbles, eyes shining. "You have to understand-even with all of those memories gone-he remembers the first time; the first time you left him." Arthur explains.

"It was years and years ago!" France counters.

Arthur's lips twist into a mirthless smile. "Yes, so was Joan, wasn't she?"

"What's she 'ave to do with this?" Francis growls.

Arthur shakes his head and looks away. "I remember, someone once said that the child was like _him_, never forgetting and unforgiving." France stares at England in stunned silence, before falling to the ground laughter and sobs bubbling up from his throat at the same time.

* * *

**I skipped back to the future! I hope everyone's liking it so far and thank you all for your reviews, please continue to read and review.**

_**Words:**_

_**Mathieu: Matthew**_

_**Merde: Shit**_

_**Oui: Yes**_

_**Non: No**_


	12. Life is Full of Shades

_Life is Full of Shades_

* * *

Staring over at his bordering nation, America takes a rather slow contemplative bite of his Big Mac. His twin is glaring down at the table as his jaw works over time in chewing on the straw to his Milkshake, swallowing down the meal it leaves him with a sick feeling instead of the usual sensation of satisfaction. Looking down at the burger in his fingers and then to his brother, America sighs and puts the meal back on the tray and picks up a fry to naw on.

"So..." He mumbles around his french fry. His brother's gaze flickers to him and then back to the table, "Are you okay Mattie?" He inquires anxiously once he's finished chewing.

"Yeah Al, I'm fine." Mattie grumbles flopping back against the cushioned booth in a huff.

Alfred nods. "Okay...but if you want to bitch or somethin' I'm listening." He offers to his border buddie and just like America had expected his brother to do he took it as a green light for go.

"I just can't believe them! _Him_! Whatever made them think we would be okay with him blokcing our memories!" Canada rages, shredding the straw wrapper between his fingers as he goes.

Alfred grins crookedly at his twin. "Like Arthur said, we wanted everything normal again." And part of America gets that, somewhere in him he can hear the child him from his dreams (memories) begging for everything to be like before. "I _know_ we wanted everything like before." Alfred reiterates, eyes unfocusing as they stare off at somet unspecific detail in the distance.

Canada scowls at him. "How?" The blond demands, _He _certaintly doesn't remember wishing for things to go back to normal.

Alfred opens his mouth, but then shakes his head and gives his fellow nation a cryptic smile. "You know how." He counters.

Canada makes a noise of irritation and points his finger at his brother. "You are annoying even when you're supposed to help." He accuses petulantly. Alfred gives a obnxious laugh and winks at his brother.

"What are heroes for?" He jokes and the blond finds himself relieved when it cracks a shy smile from his twin. They fall into a less tense quiet and use the time to finish their meal, before Canada looks back at his brother over the rims of his glasses.

"Do you think I'm nuts like England now?" He whispers fretful and scared.

America chokes on the soda he was drinking as his eyes pop out in surprise. "What!" He cries. "No way! You're the sanest nation I've ever come across dude!" The older brother affirms.

Canada blinks and then relaxes as he gives his twin a bright smile. "Thanks Al."

"...I guess I can't call Artie crazy anymore, huh? It'd be hypocritical to call him that when you guys are, like, the same." He muses slurping up the last of his soda.

Canada chuckles and gets to his feet. "Ready to leave?" He implores brushing the crumbs of his own dinner off his body.

"Sure man." America agrees following his brother to the trash and then out the door to the parking lot.

Getting into the car, America pauses. "Think they left yet?" He asks hesitantly.

"Dunno," Canada shrugs. "Want to drive around for a bit?" He suggests.

"Yeah, let's do it." America agrees turning on the car. They drive in relative silence, only the soft sound of pop singers floating up from the car speakers. At a stop light, America begins to drum his fingers on the steering wheel. "They love you, you know." He says.

Canada snorts and crosses his arms. "Yeah right." He grumbles.

"They do!" Alfred insists, gripping his steering wheel tighter. "Why would Artie have stayed with you in a burning building if he didn't? Why would he have kept you after France didn't want you back? He loves you." Alfred states.

Canada shifts a bit and mumbles. "Arthur loves _all _of his colonies, even the ex-ones."

America grins a bit. "He shouldn't." He says, eyes sparking strangely in the shadowed light of the car.

"That's Arthur for you, eh? Doesn't know when to stop caring." Canada sighs, glancing away from his twin.

"Yeah." Alfred agrees. They fall quiet for a moment before America raises his voice one more. "Hey, why would France have saved you and England from the fire if he didn't love you?" He questions triumphant.

Canada sends his brother a look of disgust. "For England, _duh_." He hisses. "Haven't you ever noticed the looks he gives him?"

America shakes his head. "He might love him" America begins, "But the time he could have acted on it is long gone." He continues on voice wavering. "If he admitted it now...it would only hurt England more." He finishes in a whisper.

Canada exhales and begins to play with loose string unraveling from his hockey jersey. "I know." He murmurs. A few minutes of silence later he glances at the neon green numbers of the clock to see that it reads ten fifteen. "Should we head back to your place? It's past ten." He inquires. America grunts and swivels into a U-turn making them head towards the direction of his home, with a sharp breath Canada growls. "Learn to drive asshole."

America barks a laugh. "You first." Canada's mouth drops open an insult ready to sound, but then on a split-second decision he chooses to laugh it off and begins to snicker. America's loud laughter joins his and the two start to giggle until it turns to hiccups and tears. America pulls over to the shoulder of the road at that point, and bangs on the horn as he cries and cries while Canada puts his face in his hands trying to hide every tear that dares to fall from his eyes.

"T-This is s-so messed up-p." America stutteres through his sobs.

Sniveling into his sleeve, Canada peeks up and says to this twin. "When _hasn't _everything been messed up?" America doesn't have an answer for his brother, yet Canada didn't expect him too.

* * *

**A new chapter! I got it out pretty fast this time didn't I? Don't expect the next one to be as fast, I just hit a bit of inspiration while taking a test the yesterday and had to write it down. Any way hope you all are liking it and please review! :)**


	13. Take your Chances

_**Take your Chances**_

* * *

He sits up, his muscles tense and weary; eyes gritty and bloodshot, but he knew sleep would not come to him tonight. Using more care than he usually thinks to give when he stays with his brother, he inches away from his twin's fitful form and drags himself from the twisted sweaty sheets. Walking over to where he lefts his clothes folded, he rolls them out and pulls them on silently. Grabbing his brother's keys from his dresser, he doesn't look back (doesn't even glance).

**XxXxX**

Parking the Ford, Matthew strolls towards the hotel he knows his colonizer is spending the weekend at. Walking in to the warmly lit lobby, he sees it's empty of all but a single girl trying not to doze at the front desk. Striding quickly, he slaps his hand lightly against the marble and jars the girl from her semi-dreaming state.

"Hm?" She yawns blinking bleary blue eyes at Canada, "Do you need something _monsieur_?" She inquires. Canada pauses, chest panging at the girl's French; a reminder a top of many, one just as painful as the next.

Clearing his throat, the blond nods. "Yeah, I need Arthur Kirkland's room please."

Stifling another yawn, the girl bobs her head several times and murmurs under her breath as she scrolls through her computer's database. "Ah," she exclaims, "Room 612, that's on the fifth floor, to the right." She tells him.

"_Merci,_" He bites his tongue after, the French tasting like poison on his tongue. The girl, though, blushes and smiles with a bit more energy than before.

"You're welcome _monsieur_, it's been a while since I've talked to someone who knows French." She happily explains to him.

Canada awkwardly mumbles something like "I see" or "Oh" and hurries away, nearly jogging towards the elevator.

When he comes to the dark green door ornately trimmed in gold, Matthew hesitates. What if he's sleeping? Or what if he's not even here? Fiddling with his cellphone for a moment, he considers calling England to see if the cell will ring on the other side of the wall, but decides not to with a sigh. Going with his original plan, he knocks. He hears feet shuffle and stumble, then the clinks and clanks of the deadbolt before the door swings open to reveal England still in his ruffled outfit from earlier that day; his eyes are puffy and shadowed.

"Matthew?" He questions.

The boy drops his gaze, he can't stand seeing the emotions in England's gaze. "I want to hear the rest." He mumbles.

England shifts to rest against the doorway. "I knew you would," he exhales. Backing up, he gestures for the younger man to come in; Canada does as he requests and takes a seat on the unused bed. Closing and locking the door, England stares at him. "You're brother's not with you?"

Canada frowns. "It's _my_ story, not his."

England nods his head. "Yes, I suppose you're right." He agrees. Walking over to the little table and chair squeezed between the closet and the television, England sits down and smiles at Canada. "I remember when the both of you were small; Alfred would fall asleep, but you'd be awake when I came to check on you two, I'd take you down to the kitchen and we'd chat over tea for hours."

Canada flexes his hand and vaguely recalls the memories England remembers so fondly. "I remember." He says to the Englishman. His eyes fall then to the two mugs on the table. Stiffening, he demands. "Is France here?"

England's eyes fade and a frown replaces the wistful smile. "No, he was by earlier." He answers.

Canada scowls. "You hate him." He says, "You say you hate him, but you have _tea _with him."

England shakes his head at Canada, like he's a child who doesn't understand the world. "It's hard to hate someone with the same intensity for years on end, m'boy." Arthur replies.

"You _should _hate him, he's hurt you a lot more than you've hurt him." Canada declares to the older man.

A sad, almost teasing smile lifts England's face. "All's not fair in love and war," he answers and when Canada opens his mouth to say something snide he holds up a stern hand. "But you go on, you take your wins when you get them and you try to forget your loses." He elaborates. Gazing straight into Canada's sharp purple eyes, he tells him, "You can't hold grudges, Matthew."

"Who says!" The Canadian bites back just as sharply, "Who says I can't? You? Alfred? _France_?" He spits, "None of you have the least bit control over what I do!" He shouts.

England stares back in that cool, sympathetic way. "You'll make your self sick m'boy," he sighs.

Trembling, Canada digs his fingers into his knees and hisses to the man. "Just tell me the rest of the story."

England looks back with glistening eyes, but descends his chin in acceptance. "Okay," he whispers, "Okay."

* * *

**Hey guys! It's been a lot more than a while, hasn't it? I'm really sorry about that, but I've gotten...distracted. There isn't much else that I can say about that, I'll try and update here and there but I don't think I'll get around to finishing this story until the Summer. I'm sorry I left you guys hanging and I'm sorry I didn't keep on top of this, but I promise at least an update once a month from now on. **

**I hope you all liked this chapter, we'll get back to the real story next chapter, until then, I hope you'll all consider reviewing and thanks for taking the time to read this! :)**

_**Words:**_

_**Monsieur: Sir**_

_**Merci: Thanks**_


	14. Hiding in your Closet and Under your Bed

_**Hiding in your Closet and Under your Bed**_

* * *

Fingers absently pattering a rhythm on the warm ceramic, England stares past Canada with eyes glazed and distant. Slowly, the tapping fades to silence; fidgeting, Canada demands,

"Well? Are you going to start?"

England chuckles, but it's without joy. "So impatient," he chides, "Won't you give an old man time to gather himself?"

Matthew frowns. "You aren't _that _old," he contests.

A sharpness comes to those green eyes, cutting and furious, England hisses; "Say you? Say your _papa_?" Making Canada flinch in the process, "That oaf America? China? The _World_?" He bites. Canada shrinks back in his seat, shocked by the anger he's risen with a single comment. Shaking as he stands, England runs a hand through that bristle of blond he calls hair. "I've lived and died a thousand times," he whispers, "You say I'm not old, but what do _you _know? A child!" He snaps whirling around to point accusingly at Canada.

"You know _nothing_!" He howls.

Canada breathes heavy, staring up with round violet eyes. He prays England doesn't say more. Suddenly as the anger rose, it sheds to be replaced with fumbling embarrassment and an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry lad," he whispers, "I let things get the better of me for a moment there..."

"It's okay." Canada squeaks.

Falling back into his chair, England laughs nervously and mutters, "God, I need some Gin or Scotch."

Canada shakes his head and presses a little more timid than before, "Won't you tell me the rest?"

England stares back at him miserable. "I guess you won't let me put it off, will you?" He mumbles more to himself than Matthew, sighing, the blond thumbs his crinkled tie and mutters, "Here goes nothing..." Lifting those ethereal eyes to meet his own, England repeats, "Here goes nothing."

**XxXxX**

France stays, annoying Canada and to the great relief of America (a family can always do with more than one hero). France stays, but he can't stop monster's growing strength. Slowly, with nearly imperceptible frequency, monster's presence becomes more regular and even more threatening. Some days, he just rattles and throws things in the little house, other's he bangs and hits the walls with such intensity that they flee for just a moment's silence. It's the nights; however, that prove most threatening...

The two boys sleeping on either side of the large bed, shiver and shift at the cool autumn breeze that creaks past the little window above their bed. Under the thin sheets, the two plump forms gravitate towards each other for warmth. Little arms brushing and clinging to nightshirts and sleeves, tiny knees bumping knees, little heads bent close enough for hot breath to intermingle in their exhales; the two begin to fall into restful slumber once again-

"AHHH!" The shriek is only the beginning, thuds and banging and the scraping of nails echoes through the little house as it drags Canada into the closet; shutting it with a damning thud.

America flies from the twin's bed, eyes dilated and clothes clinging to him from more than sweat. Pounding fists against the heavy wood, he screams, "Mattie! Mattie!" Wails answer him, hitting the door even harder, America howls. "Why won't you break!" Hands snag him around the waist, pulling him back thrashing and hollering; from the firm arms, he watches France throw himself at the door. It doesn't splinter at first, but then, the Frenchman picks up a chair and throws it at the closet.

The cries from behind the wood quiet.

France freezes for a moment in the faint moonlight, body tense as he stares shocked at the door. "_Mon dieu_! Open!" He roars with sudden excitement, kicking it dead center. Surprising everyone, the door cracks and with a few more pummeling kicks, it falls away to reveal the darkness of the small room.

England's shaky voice washes over him. "He's got Matthew," he whispers, "Oh, he has _Matthew_.." Just like Arthur says, Frances reappears from the hole with Canada black and blue-but breathing-in his arms. Arthur's arms reach out for the battered boy, France hesitates for all of a moment before easing the unconscious boy into the smaller blonde's arms. Tracing the swollen face, England murmurs, "Wake up love."

Canada's eyes squint open, clarity comes to the eyes and he utters, "He's going to _kill _us, he _swore._"

America feels England's body tense against his and feels the way his breath catches, but with surprising speed it melts away. "No worries love," He mumbles to Canada, "You're papa and I won't let it happen." He sounds so sure, but America just _knows _he's terrified.

Little purple fingers grip at Arthur's sleeve, eyes open in slits, he hisses sharply, "_Us, _England, _us_! He's going to _kill us_!" America narrowly misses getting his face smothered when his mother nation crushes Canada to his chest.

"Hush my child," he whispers, "Hush my little boy," he croons, "Hush love of _mine_." Canada whimpers, hiding his face in England's shoulder he moans;

"He _swore_! He _swore_!"

England looks up from the little body writhing in his arms, green eyes begging and desperate he mouths a single word; _help_.

France shifts his blue eyes away and hides his expression in the night's shadow, America feels rage surge through his adrenaline shocked body. How can he just _stand _there and _not do anything_!? Biting back a snarl, America decides France isn't half the hero he plays; wriggling in his colonizer's lap, he hugs both his brothers.

"It's okay England," he soothes, "I won't let monster get either of you..." Canada sniffles and tears well in those enchanting green eyes; America knows they're grateful, even if his words are empty, all that matters now is the reassurance. Casting his gaze long-wise, he sees France staring at them; hand over his mouth and eyes guilty. Good, America thinks, he should; he should feel guilty and so much more...

* * *

**Like I told you last chapter, I promised this will be updated at least once a month from here on out. How are things going you think? We've gone back to the real story, I think Uncle Scotland's going to come around soon. Thanks for reading guys and I hope you'll review.**

_**Words:**_

_**Mon Dieu: My God**_


End file.
